The Devil You Know

by Sophia Holloway

  *

  Lucy Sudbury sat with her hands folded in her lap, but her pose was at odds with her thoughts, which were far from calm. She was not enjoying the ball, despite having her dance card decently filled, for there was a name missing, and without it her evening was wasted. Her thoughts were confused and she was at a loss what to do. She felt, very strongly, that Lord Inglesham looked upon her with fondness, and, she hoped, rather more. At the same time he seemed to be standing back ever further from her, almost pushing other men into her path, gentlemen in whom she had no interest. From the favourable impression he had created at their first meeting at Lady Ledbury’s, he had fast become her gauge as to whether an evening was enjoyable or not. When he was present, engaged her in conversation, danced with her, the evening was a success; if he was absent it was dull and tiresome and she would take the first opportunity to indicate to her sister that she would as lief return home and seek her bed. He was kind, understanding, and possessed of the quiet good looks she was finding increasingly irresistible. Lucy was an honest girl, to herself as to others, and she admitted that she had developed a very serious tendre for the viscount. The problem now lay in indicating to him that her feelings were engaged, whilst behaving with maidenly modesty. The Season was advancing, and having commenced it with no greater wish than it might end, she now found herself dreading its conclusion if it meant that she might not see him again with any frequency. So lost was she in her cogitations that she did not notice the approach of their object until he stood before her.

  ‘I had looked to see you twirling upon the dance floor, Miss Sudbury, your dance card full. Instead I find you deep in thought, and not happily so, I fear. Is there any way in which I might be of assistance?’

  Lucy was about to deny thinking at all, and then, suddenly, it hit her. It was a wave of feminine intuition that amounted to ‘wiles’, of which she often said she disapproved.

  ‘Am I so clearly preoccupied, my lord? Oh dear. Well, I think perhaps you might give me the benefit of your advice, for I find myself in a situation where guidance is required, and I am without anyone to guide me.’

  ‘But your sister…’

  ‘Oh, I could not discuss this with Charlotte,’ averred Lucy, ‘for she would not understand, not as you would.’ The lie cost her a pang, but she accounted it a price worth paying.

  He sat beside her, turned a little towards her. She looked at him with eyes full of trust.

  ‘Then permit me to offer what help I can, Miss Sudbury.’

  ‘It is a terribly difficult predicament,’ she sighed. ‘You see, what should a well-brought-up young lady do when a gentleman shows interest in her, leads her to…’ Lucy blushed, which he thought adorable, ‘to develop the most tender feelings for him, and then distances himself from her?’

  Lord Inglesham’s chest felt tight. So she had found a young man, but the fool had not seen her worth, or worse, was toying with her affections. She was asking his advice, as she would no doubt have asked her father. His expression grew grave.

  ‘Has some puppy played fast and loose with you, child? I am sorry for it if he has, and were I in a position to do so I would remonstrate most forcibly with him.’

  ‘Not a puppy, my lord, and I am not a child.’ Her voice was soft, but firm. She looked at him, her heart in her eyes.

  ‘Not a puppy?’ he repeated, mesmerised.

  She shook her head. ‘No, and not a child.’ She paused, letting this sink in, then moistened her lips and continued. ‘What have I done wrong, my lord, to give you distaste of me?’ She sounded sorrowful, even as a voice in her head screamed at her that she was lost to all modesty and decorum. In response to that voice she rebelled further, and laid the tips of her gloved fingers upon his arm.

  Lord Inglesham swallowed hard, and managed only a whisper.

  ‘Distaste? Of you? Nothing. Nothing, I swear.’

  ‘Then have I, in my ignorance, misread the matter? Are you simply being kind to one beset by sorrows? I have not enjoyed London as I should, sir. Only your presence has lightened it for me, your sympathy, your consideration. When with you I feel all the darkness lifts from about me. I feel alive.’ She paused, for what she was about to say was verging on the impertinent. ‘If it is because of your attachment to your Emily, a feeling that it betrays her memory to experience the tender emotions again, I respect it, but repeat what you said to me at our first meeting. Those we have lost would not want us forever lost in grief. Having loved her, loving her memory still, need that preclude loving… another?’

  Lord Inglesham made an indeterminate sound in his throat. His mind was reeling, and he fought to sort his thoughts into sense. Eventually he found words.

  ‘It does not preclude… but I cannot take advantage… you are so young, innocent… bereaved as you have been it has been too easy to take solace in a man you can regard as you would your father.’

  She blinked in astonishment.

  ‘My father?’

  ‘I am too old, my dear.’ He smiled, ruefully.

  ‘Indeed? Then I must ask you to tell me the number of your years, because I do not believe that, sir.’

  ‘I am four and thirty. You are but eighteen.’

  ‘And of those debutantes who have already become betrothed this Season I can name but one whose future husband is younger than twenty-five, and half a dozen marrying gentlemen well over thirty without anyone demurring at the age difference. Surely, my lord, it is not the difference in years, but the similarities in attitudes, in tastes, what our hearts tell us to be true?’

  ‘I cannot believe… Dare not hope…’

  A tremulous smile was upon her lips as she coloured more.

  ‘I promise you, my lord, I in no way regard you in the light of a surrogate father. My love for him was, and is still, deep, but of an entirely different variety.’ Her fingers squeezed his arm and she whispered, very softly. ‘I never wanted him to kiss me as I do you.’

  There, she had said it, been so brassy and bold that her late and lamented mama would have fainted with horror, but the cause was right, which was her sop to her conscience. Lord Inglesham said nothing, did nothing, for what seemed an eternity, then, glancing to ascertain that nobody was regarding them, he leaned forward and his lips brushed hers for a fleeting, stolen instant. It was barely a kiss, but considering their location was as significant as a full embrace. His hand closed over the gloved one on his arm, squeezed it gently, and then he raised it to his lips.

  ‘You have to be sure, my dear one,’ he breathed.

  ‘I am quite, quite sure. Do you think me the sort of young woman who is fickle of nature, sir?’ She was confident enough now to dare a little teasing.

  ‘No, I do not. I think you sweet and gentle, but firm in your beliefs. It is such a step though, I had to ask.’

  ‘And I admire you for doing so. You see, you think always of the other person, such a generous spirit as you have.’ Her eyes adored. ‘I had not dreamed to be so fortunate.’

  ‘Nor I, not again. I… I will not forget Emily, or our son. I cannot, but you hold as great a place in my heart.’

  ‘I would not ask you to forget, not them, only the pain of their loss, as I set aside my grief in the joyous future you set before me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh dear, that sounds very… solemn, when my heart is doing cartwheels.’

  ‘Is it?’ His smile showed him more relaxed.

  ‘Yes.’ Her own matched it. ‘You will arrange matters? With my brother Rowington? I am not versed in such things.’ She giggled then. ‘Me, receiving an offer!’

  Her youthful naïvety charmed him.

  ‘I shall. And as soon as may be. I will send round to him tomorrow morning to request an interview.’

  ‘But I may tell my sister this evening?’

  ‘My dear Miss Sudbury, I think if you did not she might yet guess. Your face betrays you.’

  ‘Oh.’ She dimpled. ‘You might care to call me Lucy, if we are to be betrothed.’

  ‘I shall,�
� he paused, watching her reactions, ‘keep that particular pleasure for when Rowington has agreed and I pay my addresses in form, Miss Sudbury.’

  As he had hoped, she took this as a romantic gesture. They parted, reluctantly, each containing their delight with difficulty. Miss Sudbury sought, and found, her sister, with whom she might share her news, but Lord Inglesham was not so fortunate. The Ledburys had left, rather precipitately, according to the Earl of Jersey.

  ‘Not sure what has occurred, but Ledbury looked as if he might commit murder, and Lady Ledbury was white as a sheet. All Ledbury said to me was that his wife was unwell. Might be true, but I ask you, would that make him mad as fire? I rather think not.’

  Lord Inglesham made a vague answer, but the news brought him down from his own alt.

  21

  Kitty preceded her husband up the stairs, but was not surprised when his hand reached forward and restrained her. Taking a branch of candles from the pier table, he led her into a darkened chamber. The candles cast his face into a mix of light and shadow, distorting his expression. He set down the candles, and turned to her.

  ‘How can it have come to this?’ There was a tremor in his voice.

  ‘Come to what, my lord?’

  ‘You are my wife, and I’ll be damned if I have another man usurp my role.’ His control broke. He grabbed her hands.

  ‘And you think I would betray you, as those… tawdry lightskirts with noble titles have done with you in the past, do still? You, my lord, are so used to disloyal wives that you could not accept such a thing as a virtuous one.’ She had feared what would happen, but was more angry than afraid now. The frisson of their touch was forgotten, and the regret at his melancholy. ‘How dare you. I am indeed your wife, a wife who puts up with the whispers and the sly smiles, but, sir, I respect the vows I made about “forsaking all others” even though it is impossible to “honour” you, duplicitous wretch that you are. There is no heart to you, just appetite. This… this is just a dog who growls to keep its bone, even though it wants no more than to bury it in the garden.’

  ‘But I love you, Kitty.’ The words were wrenched from him, from so deep within he had not felt them form, surprising him as much as they did her. His bruising grip slackened a fraction.

  ‘Liar,’ she yelled, and pulled back so hard it broke his hold. ‘Deceiver. You know nothing of love, nothing.’ She was panting, eyes wide and wild with passion, but the passion was hatred, disgust.

  ‘You do not understand,’ he cried.

  ‘Understand what? That you do not comprehend the word “fidelity”?’

  ‘That I have been honest with you, faithful to you. You make assumptions.’

  ‘Well, let me see.’ Kitty suddenly sounded extremely calm, though she was not. ‘There are so many reasons why I should, are there not? Firstly of course, you always have a mistress tucked away in some London residence. The list of past conquests reads like your racing string. Why should you have changed?’ She shrugged.

  ‘Because I married you, damn it.’

  ‘I ought to be honoured. I would if it were true.’

  ‘It is,’ he yelled.

  ‘Shouting does not make it any more likely. Where was I? Ah yes, reasons. I…’

  ‘Why did you turn to Knowle?’ The question was thrown at her.

  ‘Because I could not turn to you.’ Her answer flashed back. ‘You have become so distant I might not seek friendship anymore, and that is what Geoffrey Knowle has provided, simply a person with whom to talk, share thoughts.’

  ‘About us,’ he growled.

  ‘No, never about us. I do not think there has been an “us” for some weeks, has there, and now… it was a foolish dream.’

  ‘It was real, not a dream, Kitty, I swear it.’

  ‘And I do not believe you. I can never believe you. Oh, how my heart has wished that I could, how it has been broken, but you have demeaned me, deceived me and now dishonour me. Let it end now.’ She lowered her eyes, and her shoulders sagged.

  ‘You have to believe me.’ His voice throbbed and his hands went to her shoulders, gripping even more tightly. It was instinct that made him pull her close, crush her mouth with his own. She struggled, freed one arm and hit him, hard, across the face, a nail catching his lip, and drawing a trace of blood.

  ‘I have to bear the shame of your name, nothing more. Leave me alone.’

  He was so close, so close to claiming more than a stolen kiss that it frightened him. He paled, let her go, and blundered from the room, leaving Kitty shaking uncontrollably in the semi-darkness.

  *

  When she awoke in the morning she lay for some time telling herself that what had happened was for the best. This was final and it would mean that she would not repeat the cycle of love, heartbreak, misery and forgiveness again. She had done so not once but several times, and each time the love had been deeper and the heartbreak more agonising. When she rang for Wootton, the maid arrive stony-faced and bearing a letter, not in a neat round hand, but scrawled. She bit her lip and opened it.

  Madam,

  Since my presence offends you so greatly I remove it from your vicinity. Should you choose to remain in London, Ledbury House is at your disposal, and from thence you can act the part of mistreated spouse as much as you wish. Since there are those who, like you, will only believe the worst of me, you should have an attentive and credulous audience. Melling Hall will not open its doors to you.

  You have joined the ranks of those who prefer the ease of believing rumour over the difficult task of believing truth. I never pretended to be a perfect husband, nor even a good one. I have tried, however, to be honest with you, with minor lapses which were only made to keep you from upset. I cannot prove the truth to you; it has to be taken upon trust, and it is obvious that you refuse to trust me.

  You accused me of having no heart, only appetite. On the former I would, even a few weeks past, have agreed with you, but to my own surprise I found that I do possess one, or rather I did, for it was handed to you. As for appetite, I do not deny that, but from the day of our marriage the only woman with whom I have been intimate was you, that first dismal night. I have waited, through circumstance, and then at your request. I have been patient, and have not demanded what may be termed, ‘my rights’. It has become increasingly difficult to do so as my feelings for you have burgeoned. What you saw between me and Lady Yarningale was a situation not of my making, nor of my desiring. I have wanted You in my arms, and only You, to the point of desperation. Louisa Yarningale did what she did to poison relations between us. I do not know if she engineered your presence or took advantage of a moment. She cast herself upon me, and my reaction was simple male instinct that lasted no longer than your look. A man is not so great a thing; there are reactions of body which are divorced from heart, from mind. Perhaps you are right to despise me.

  What I ‘saw’ between you and Knowle was, I accept, the convolution of a jealous and tormented mind. I have been at my wits’ end these last two weeks, and seeing you look at him as if depending upon him broke me.

  I will make provision for you to take up residence in my property in Suffolk, when you remove from London, so that you need not be contaminated by my presence.

  Yours, and yours alone, if only you would have believed it,

  Ledbury

  By the time she finished reading the letter her hands shook, and she felt sick. She had been telling herself this was what she wanted, a clean break, and here it was, but she did not, oh how much she did not.

  *

  Lord Inglesham also received a letter as he breakfasted rather later than his usual hour, and in a reverie all his own. It made him put away all thought of his own happiness and look grim.

  I am leaving immediately for Melling. Tonight I came so close to the unthinkable, so very close, and I would not harm her, truly. The Yarningale woman is at the heart of it, I know, for she engineered that ‘encounter’ and that my Kitty would see it. No doubt she has sown the seeds of rumou
r also. I have been honest with my wife, but honesty has got me nowhere. I now find she is accepting ‘sympathy’ from Knowle. I doubt this has been more than an ear into which she might pour her sorrows, but I saw her close to him tonight, grip his arm, and I wanted to kill him. I can only say that none of the men with whose wives I have toyed can have loved them in the slightest, or I would long since have been a dead man. I confronted Kitty at home, accused, in my jealousy, a pure woman of betrayal, lost her respect, her affection, the hope of her love. How will I live without those things? I am not sure, at this moment, that I can.

  She will not permit me to protect her. As my friend, I beg you will do what I cannot.

  Yours,

  Ledbury

  He got up, and rang the bell with unaccustomed vehemence.

  ‘When was this delivered?’

  ‘I shall ascertain, my lord. I believe it was before eight, but cannot be certain.’

  ‘If that is but close to the time…’ He shook his head. ‘Do not make further enquiry.’

  He ordered a post-chaise and four for within the hour, sent for his valet to pack a valise, and called for ink and paper. He scrawled two notes. One, directed to Lady Ledbury, said simply,

  Forgive him. He is beyond desperate. I am going to see what I can do.

  Ever your obedient servant,

  Inglesham

  The second was a little longer and addressed to Miss Sudbury. It was more difficult because he could not be explicit about his reason for leaving London so peremptorily, and without taking his reluctant leave of her. He simply said that he had been called away to Lord Ledbury’s estate, which precluded him from arranging an immediate private interview with Lord Rowington as he had intended, but expressed the wish that he might return in the very near future and do so with all haste. He remained her ‘most devoted servant’, with ‘devoted’ underlined.